Warrior of the Wild(74)

Shiny black armor winks from within.

Iric pulls out a gleaming breastplate and holds it out to me. I take it, rubbing my fingers along the bottom edge.

“How?” is all I can manage as I stare at the beautiful craftsmanship.

“Wasn’t easy. I made this piece from a single sheet torn from the back of the largest ziken we caught. Had to hammer at it for hours to get it into the right shape. Trimming the edges down was even more difficult. Had to take my ax to it. You should know, now that the armor isn’t connected to a living creature, the regenerative properties don’t work anymore.”

“That hardly matters. It’s wonderful.”

“Would you like to try it on?”

I replace my iron armor with ziken hides. The new armor is lighter, but just as strong. I walk through a set of warm-up strikes, amazed by how much more quickly I’m able to move.

“It’s fantastic! I’ll never wear iron again,” I say, rubbing my arm over where the guards are tucked into my sleeves.

“Shall we start our journey now? Or are you too busy admiring yourself?”

I smack him.



* * *



IRIC LEADS US back to Restin. He is most familiar with the way, having traversed the path once a month for the last year to exchange letters with Aros.

“We’re going to see Mother and Father,” Iric says feebly, as though he doesn’t dare to let himself get too hopeful. He carries his own sack on his back. With all the salt inside slowing the decomposition of the hyggja head, I can’t imagine how heavy it must be.

Soren carries his feather on his back, with all our bedding squishing it tight so it doesn’t budge. That leaves me to carry all our food and supplies for the three-day journey.

“You are,” I say. “You’ll see everyone you left behind.”

I just hope it will be a happy reunion. At my own banishment, I seem to remember Father mentioning something about what would happen if I actually completed my mattugr, but I hadn’t been listening by that point. At the time, I never thought I’d get to go home.

But now, with Iric and Soren heading for their own home, my hope is brighter than ever.



* * *



SOREN GIVES ME A quick kiss just outside the borders of Restin. “We won’t be long. Wish us luck?”

“You don’t need luck,” I answer. “You’ve already done the hard part. Go see your family.”

“Thank you again, Raz,” Iric says. “For everything. We’ll be back out before nightfall.”

And then they weave around the inna trees, until they come to the stone archway leading into Restin.

I turn around and climb the tree at my back. The boys helped me select the perfect vantage point to see their homecoming. I wish I could go with them, but it’s not possible. When we’re banished, we’re banished from all villages. Newcomers stand out, and I’d be recognized as an intruder instantly.

I climb the tree higher and higher, feeling lighter as I go. I helped them go home. They would never have done it without me.

I may not have been the perfect leader my village deserves. But I did something right out here.

When I’ve climbed high enough, I find a thick branch to sit on and rest my back against the bark of the trunk. My eyes seek out Soren and Iric.

It’s midday, and the village is busy. It’s not very different from how Seravin looks. Cut-rock houses. Display tables showcasing foods and hides and gems available for trade. A dog loops around people in the road, trying to catch up to its owner. Children run through the street, making a game of dodging all the people. A scolding mother grabs one of the children before he can run across the path of a nocerotis.

Iric and Soren hover at the edge, watching it all. Perhaps waiting for someone to notice them.

I’m too far away to hear anything, but I watch as one head turns and points. Then another and another, until all the activity in the market stills, as everyone sees the banished boys returned home.

Eventually, a man cuts through the crowd and approaches Iric and Soren. Both boys remove their packs from their backs. Iric sets his on the ground, grips the end of the sack, and pulls it up. A mound of white slips through the opening. When the salt falls away, the head becomes visible for all to see.

I can hear the gasps, and then the cheers.

Soren offers his feather to the man who must be the new village leader of Restin, after the last one was killed by Peruxolo.

He takes it, and the shouts and screams are deafening, as the villagers surround Iric and Soren.

What are they doing? Mauling them?

I’m about to rush out of the tree, when I see Iric and Soren hoisted up in the air on the shoulders of some of the hunters and warriors.

They’re welcomed as heroes.

Iric and Soren aren’t set back on the ground until two new figures enter the square. I can’t see much of their features save their gray heads. They must be Iric’s parents, for they’re rushing at the boys, smothering them with their bodies in fierce hugs. The woman kisses each of their cheeks before ushering them down the street.

But then one more person makes an appearance.

Iric pulls himself away from his mother.

The newcomer, who I’m sure must be Aros, launches himself at Iric. The two nearly fall over from the force of the hug. Aros doesn’t even come up to Iric’s chin, so the latter has to bend down so their lips can meet.